


Eat Me

by greenmage128



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Hate Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmage128/pseuds/greenmage128
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's finally a break in the case Gadreel's practically built his law enforcement career on, until Crowley displays his knack for being the proverbial spanner in the works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eat Me

**Author's Note:**

> For the [SPN Rare OTP Fic-a-Month Challenge](http://otpfic-a-month.livejournal.com/) for May. Theme: free for all.
> 
> I got the idea for this a while ago, and the challenge (that I'm so late for late for, and I cannot apologize enough for it) gave me the nudge I needed to get it done. Let's just say certain bits of dialogue from ["Road Trip"](http://greenmage128.tumblr.com/post/109808196034) (9x10) were very… inspiring. :P

Gadreel hasn't had this shitty of a day in a long time. He sleeps through his alarm by about forty-five minutes, forcing him to forego both coffee and shower to make it into the station on time. Even better, there's a mountain of paperwork on his desk when he does arrive, all bureaucratic forms of one kind or another relating to cases he'd worked on in the past three months, which Gadreel can't even be angry about, because he should have done it ages ago.

The day crawls, and by lunch he's made maybe a dent in the pile, though the going is difficult when he can't remember half the details he needs to, nor does he have the requisite caffeine in his system to encourage his memory. And then Castiel—a social worker who Gadreel shares the occasional case and subsequent beer with—appears from nowhere and seats himself on the other side of Gadreel's desk.

“Hello, Castiel,” Gadreel says, and he manages to sound far cheerier than he feels. “What brings you here?”

Castiel is slow to respond, and when he does, his voice is tired, almost defeated. “Your friends in Vice finally arrested Thaddeus, and the charges look like they're going to stick.”

For a moment Gadreel can't breathe. The news he'd been waiting to hear for twenty years, the reason he became an officer of the law, this was it. He isn't even sure how to react, until his brain registers Castiel's tone and how this should be a much happier occasion. “But…?”

“Crowley is defending him.”

Gadreel can't help the loud, “Fuck,” that flies out of his mouth.

Of all the lawyers in the city that Thaddeus could have hired, and he picked _that one_. Because of course he would. Gadreel had run into him more than once on his homicide beat, and every time the perp Gadreel had arrested ended up walking free.

His friend leans back in his chair and scrubs his face. “I'm working with the child involved, so I'll do what I can, but the rest is up to the guys in Vice and the D.A.”

That gives Gadreel pause. “Who's prosecuting?”

For the first time since he sat down, Castiel smiles. “Sam. We've got some luck there.” His phone buzzes, and he sighs. “Duty calls. The deposition is today.”

He knows he shouldn't ask, knows what Castiel will say, and his friend probably already sees it coming, but years of wanting vengeance won't be ignored. “Need any help?”

Castiel raises an eyebrow, though it soon drops, and the look he gives him in its place is as piercing and scrutinizing as Gadreel thought it might be. “Gadreel. I know what this case means to you, but you have to stay far away from it. Your history with Thaddeus is well-known.”

“It's why I left Vice,” Gadreel says, nodding at the lecture.

“Precisely.” Castiel leans forward, and he lowers his voice to almost a whisper. “You go anywhere near this case, and you could jeopardize the whole thing. So please, trust Sam and I. Besides, no jury is going to let Thaddeus walk.”

It isn't the jury Gadreel is worried about, but he lets it go. Castiel leaves after his phone goes off again, though not without a parting look of warning.

Gadreel knows he should heed it. Part of him even wants to do so, but there's another, larger part that wants to make sure Thaddeus doesn't get a magical Get Out of Jail Free card.

He works through his usual lunch hour, waiting despite the protests from his head and stomach. It's only when Castiel sends him a text asking about getting drinks later that he gets up from his desk. As he heads out, the cop at the front desk, an old timer just riding out the clock until he could get his pension named Metatron, gives him a look, like he knows what he's up to, but Gadreel does his best to avoid his gaze, the guilt and judgement coming from his own conscience more than enough.

After grabbing a quick bite from a sub shop down the street from the station, Gadreel doubles back, making sure Castiel's car is gone from the parking lot before going over to Vice.

Bartholomew catches him as soon he's inside, and Gadreel lets his former beat partner “distract” him with small talk, nodding along and occasionally giving input as required. Meanwhile, he watches the progress of the deposition from the corner of his eye, and if Bartholomew notices, he doesn't mention it.

It isn't long before he sees Thaddeus hauled back off to his cell, and Gadreel spots Crowley loitering in the hallway after he's gone. Bartholomew must deem him no longer a danger to the case, because he goes back to work with hardly a goodbye or even a warning, though Gadreel knows better than to be offended by it. Instead he makes a beeline for Crowley, drawing himself up to his full height and trying to look as imposing as possible.

“Detective Sarver,” Crowley says, cocky and smirking like every other time Gadreel had met him, though there's something else in it this time, like he knows precisely why Gadreel is there, which he very well might.

There's a file room off to the right, one Gadreel knows only gets visited once a month when someone in the department gets fed up with the excess paperwork floating around, so without a word he grabs Crowley by the lapel and drags him inside, slamming the door shut behind them.

Crowley raises an eyebrow but otherwise looks unruffled by being thrown into a filing cabinet. “You know, I honestly thought you'd hold out longer. Seems I overestimated you.”

“Don't.” Gadreel runs a hand through his hair and exhales in an attempt to stave off the anger and frustration already simmering under his skin. “You have no room to lecture me about ethics.”

“Oh, but I think I do.” The lawyer leans against the cabinet behind him, chuckling. “So, let me guess, you want me to throw the case and help you get your petty little revenge?”

Gadreel knows he shouldn't take the bait, but he can't help growling out, “There's nothing petty about this.”

“My mistake,” Crowley says, though his tone nothing short of mocking. “But the answer is still no. There's this little thing called a contract, and I keep to mine.”

He doesn't have much leverage here, but Gadreel can't just walk away. There was too much at stake—Thaddeus' freedom and his own pride for starters. “You can stand to break this one. No one would blame you for walking away from a losing case.”

It's paper-thin, and Crowley sees right through it, not that Gadreel had expected him to buy it. “Right. It's such an open and shut case that you're trying to blackmail me into throwing it. Of course.” He pushes off the cabinet and moves in closer, hovering at the edge of Gadreel's personal space like a predator stalking his prey. To his credit, Gadreel doesn't step back, mostly because there's no room. “You know, I wonder what your cop buddies would think of your delightful past.”

There's a note of superiority in Crowley's voice, taking full advantage of his British accent, and it sets Gadreel's teeth on edge while sparking a twinge of regret in his chest, but it's not enough to get him to back out now. “They already know—”

“Oh no, not the incident with Thaddeus that made you become a shining defender of the law.” Crowley takes a step forward, and there's a glint in his eye that sets off warning bells in Gadreel's mind. “I mean the things you did to land yourself in Thaddeus' care to begin with, and how this perhaps isn't the first case you have a personal connection to. What was the name of your first collar again? Luke something-or-other?”

Hearing that name coming from Crowley in that obnoxious, holier than thou tone—Gadreel snaps. Everything goes red, and he finds himself slamming Crowley back into the file cabinet by the shoulders before he can so much as blink. His next words come to his lips unbidden, and as much as they are a surprise, Gadreel realizes that he means them. “I will destroy you.”

None of this seems to faze Crowley, and he gives a bored, unimpressed, “Eat me.”

It takes all of Gadreel's willpower not to hit him. Helplessness rises like bile in his throat, and he needs to find an outlet for all these emotions and fast, before he does something he'll regret. And that's when he sees something flicker across Crowley's face, something like amusement but more sinister, eyes dragging down then up his body slow and predatory again, and Gadreel's reaction is nothing but pure animal instinct. Or so he tells himself.

He kisses Crowley. There's nothing sweet or romantic about it, instead all teeth and ferocity and lust. Worse, Crowley _responds_ , kissing back just as fierce, drawing Gadreel in deeper, because damn he's good at this, better than him. The idea that he might be in over his head finally sinks in to Gadreel, but he can't find it in him to back out.

Gadreel does manage to tear himself away from the lawyer and without meaning to meets his eyes, and whatever willpower he might have had saps away in a current of dark electricity that goes straight to his groin.

Crowley's words echo in his head, and to his lust-addled brain that somehow sounds like a fantastic idea. He drops to his knees, hands working Crowley's belt and fly automatically.

“So, this is what you were after. I don't know if I should be flattered or appalled by the insinuation,” Crowley says with a smug little laugh, and Gadreel's hands are itching to curl into fists at the sound of it.

Instead he shuts him up by yanking down his pants and pulling out his dick. It's thick, even half-hard, and Gadreel wants nothing more than to taste and feel his mouth stretch around it, to have Crowley at his complete mercy. So he does, licking at the tip before swallowing him down as far as he can.

Crowley gives a sound that's somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and a hand eases into Gadreel's hair. He can feel Crowley trying to guide him into a rhythm, but the idea makes Gadreel growl deep in his throat. He grabs Crowley's hands by the wrists and pins them against his hips and then his hips to the wall, cutting off any attempt Crowley might make to control the situation.

“You little—” The rest of the statement gets lost in a strangled gasp, as Gadreel grazes his teeth along his shaft. It's a warning, but he can't deny he likes the reaction too.

From there, Gadreel sets a fast, rough pace, and slowly he can feel Crowley's weight shift off his feet, towards his center, like his hold on his hips is the only thing keeping him standing, and that's far more intoxicating than it should be. Gadreel doesn't relent in his brutal pace, soaking in Crowley's little grunts and growls that are coming closer and closer together. He looks up and finds Crowley watching him work. Gone is the arrogance, replaced by arousal and something else that sets off that spark in him again, and Gadreel holds his gaze right up until Crowley tumbles over the edge.

The lawyer manages to keep quiet about it, biting his lip while his head cants back, hands clutching white-knuckled at empty air. Gadreel swallows what he gives, more out of necessity than choice, and he stands up and backs away as soon as Crowley seems to regain himself. He tries to wipe his mouth as discreetly as possible, but it's not quite enough.

“Oh, so _now_ you're a shrinking violet?” Crowley asks, back to his normal self. “Shame.”

“I'm not—” Gadreel stops himself, reconsidering his argument. “I won't deny that this happened, if that's what you mean.”

Crowley raises an eyebrow. “No? Well then, I might be impressed, assuming you don't have an ulterior motive.”

“For what? That?” Gadreel gives him a look and then shakes his head. “No. You wouldn't take the bait, even if I did, since you're apparently so… honorable.”

“Fair point.” Crowley rights himself and saunters over to Gadreel, running his fingertips along the bulge in Gadreel's slacks with a smirk. “Although I will say, I would have given the offer due consideration.”

With that, he leaves the room. Somehow Gadreel is left with more of that frustration than before, but there's no tissues of any kind to be found in the file room, of course, so he pushes it down and exits himself after waiting several minutes.

On his way back to his desk, Gadreel goes over all the things that have gone wrong with the day, and he tries to tell himself that, since he's at rock bottom, it all can only go up from here. And then he's greeted by his mountain of paperwork, which seems to have grown in the last hour, and he sighs before setting to it. Next time he's calling in sick.


End file.
